Bertrand Moreau wiped a trickle of sweat from his forehead with one hand while pushing away some dense jungle vegetation with the other. He was well off the main road by now and the taxi driver had refused to down the decidedly narrow dirt trail that forked off into the dark and strangely silent forest. It had been late afternoon when Bertrand had left the nearby town and as the day faded into evening and the undergrowth became pitch black he was forced to pull a flashlight from his travel bag. Aside from being dark and still, nothing seemed too out of the ordinary, until the yellow beam of his light fell upon the bleached dome of a polished skull on a pole. With a loud cry he scrambled backward. He'd been warned, of course, that trolls were unfriendly but now he was having second throughts. He shook his head and drew a deep breath, he'd come this far....
Gathering himself back up he pressed on, keeping a wary eye open for more signs. Sure enough he found them, scratches on rocks, more human remains and even a few bear traps hidden in the leaves. Unwelcoming as they seamed the sight of them cheered him, his destination couldn't be far now, and a good thing too, his legs ached and he could hear thunder brewing in the distance. "Better hurry" he said to himself
By the time the forest cleared it was raining and Bertrand was soaked to his underwear. Grumbling and sloshing through mud and wet leaves he practically broke into a run when he saw a lit window up ahead. He slipped twice, fell once and lost one of his bags in a muddy runoff before he finally got his fist to the hotel door.
Forums Role Playing (Red and Uncledaddy) The Price of Knowledge.
From somewhere within the building, a little closer to the back end, he could just make out the sound of singing. With the first knock, though, the singing stopped abruptly. A few seconds later, one of the shades at the front window moved aside just enough to show a yellowish gleam: an eye scrutinizing him through the dark. Then it disappeared, and several more seconds went by before the door finally opened.
Now two yellowy eyes stared down at him from a scowling, freckled face. The troll waited for him to explain himself, holding the door open only enough for their nose to stick through. Visitors had clearly not been expected--or wanted.
Now two yellowy eyes stared down at him from a scowling, freckled face. The troll waited for him to explain himself, holding the door open only enough for their nose to stick through. Visitors had clearly not been expected--or wanted.
From his position on the porch floor, where he had collapsed after knocking, Bertrand gazed up, and up, and up at the massive creature before him. A thousand questions fighting to be asked first filled his mind but when he opened his mouth all he could manage was, "Room for rent?" he flopped a muddy hand forward in a feeble attempt at a handshake.
The troll's gaze moved from his face down to his outstretched hand and lingered there for a moment, then back up to meet his eyes. "You're wet," they said at last. Behind them, barely visible through the crack of the door, their long tail lashed in irritation. 
"Si." The troll stepped back from the doorway a little, though not quite enough to let him pass through. "We do have a room, but I don' remember making any appointment with you."
Bertrand hobbled to his feet and gathered his remaining bags, "Well you didn't with me specifically but you should have heard from a Professor Henri Beauchamp. I'm his assistant, studying magical beings on his behalf," he wiped his left hand on the side of his pants in an attempt to wipe off some of the muck but only succeeded in getting a wet leaf stuck to his palm, " I'm Bertrand Moreau."
The troll's face crinkled a little more as they watched him, a muddy, fumbling mess. "Valko. In dat case, you're early," they grunted, motioning for him to wait by the door. They disappeared inside, but did not invite him to follow. From where he stood, he could see through to a beautifully furnished lobby, complete with a grand piano and a raw crystal chandelier. Valko returned a minute later with a large towel and a bag. "Don' bring your mud into de house. Dry off, put your tings in dere, an' I'll show you to de wash."
At first Bertrand could only stare, the hotel was a marvel, elegant and glamorous with a bit of a wild edge, there was something about the splendor of the decor that seemed to warn of something old and powerful under the veneer of elegance. He was brought back to himself when the troll, Valko, handed him a towel and instructed him to follow.
"oh thank you!..." Bertrand hesitated, though the troll had a beard they also had apparent breasts and he wasn't certain whether to say "sir" or "ma'am." As he wiped himself off and shucked his shoes and jacket he finally ventured a cautious "Ma'am?"
"oh thank you!..." Bertrand hesitated, though the troll had a beard they also had apparent breasts and he wasn't certain whether to say "sir" or "ma'am." As he wiped himself off and shucked his shoes and jacket he finally ventured a cautious "Ma'am?"
He was met with yet another long stare. "Not quite" was the only answer given before Valko waved him inside with a long blue fingernail. They turned, tossing a cascade of blue and brown waves behind them. "Shut de door, don' let out de pigs. Laundry is down dis way; your room has its own bathroom."
"Pigs?" Bertrand scarcely had time to utter the word before a large, bristly, hog trotted forward to sniff at his legs, "That's a big pig." he said as he tried to step around the creature. He followed after Valko, making note of their features. There were all the expected hallmarks of a Scandinavian troll, large size, giant nose, tusks, long, heavy limbs and a tail, but there also seemed to be crystals growing out of Valko's body, he moved closer to get a better look, peering hard at them.
Valko snorted. "Dat's Ancho. He's a small breed, you know." They stopped and stooped down to give the pig a pat and a scratch. "Here come Cayenne. She's a mini." A second pig, also black and bristly but this one only about dog-sized, was making its way into the lobby to see what had distracted everyone from the unfinished soup on the stove. Valko cooed and pet both the pigs as they sniffled and snuffled at their guest. "Don' let de pigs boss you around an' don' feed 'em anyting," Valko warned. "Same goes for de third pig, wherever 'e gone."
Right on cue the "tick tick tack" of hard toe nails hitting hardwood in rapid succession echoed down a nearby hallway and a loud bark followed. A bundle of fur shot into the room like a rocket and circled Bertrand, sniffing and barking happily.
Valko turned their attention to the "third pig" and gave him the same greeting of coos and pets before standing upright again. "Dere 'e is, dat's Pequin. He doesn' know 'e's not a pig."
Bertrand gave the dog a friendly pat, "I see," he said scratching Pequin's ears. He didn't spend much time on the dog for his host resumed their walk down the hall. Unable to keep from staring at the opulence that shined and gleamed from all sides Bertrand found himself wondering more and more if he'd stumbled into a fairytale. Mud coated and footsore it was hard not to feel like a dirty peasant in an enchanted castle.
"Here we are." Valko pulled open a set of doors at the end of the hall, revealing a room full of stacked washer and dryer units, laundry baskets, carts, and linen shelves. The room had a more functional appearance than what they had just passed through, being bare of almost anything that wasn't a laundry essential. The only exception was a set of chairs flanking a small table at one end, atop which sat a few books, a notepad, and a cup full of pens. Had it been brighter and less rainy, the window behind the table would have offered a stunning view of the lush hillside atop which the hotel sat. Valko set about preparing one of the washers and instructed their guest to put in his soiled clothes. "I'll give you a robe if you like," they offered, nodding toward a rack next to one of the linen shelves where the spare guest robes were kept. "If you 'ave any dry cleaning, put it in dere"--they motioned to another basket--"and we can send it off tomorrow."
Bertrand stripped down and took a robe, grateful to be out of his wet clothes. He thanked Valko profusely and loaded the washing machine, "How far is my room?" he asked.
"Just upstairs. I'll show you," said Valko. With the laundry going, they led Bertrand back down the hall toward the staircase. On the left, facing the patch of woods that surrounded most of the property, was an open guest room. "It's already got fresh towels an' clean bedsheets. Lemme know if you need anytin' else." They gestured for him to go inside and have a look. The room sported a kitchenette, a small bathroom, and cozy, nature-inspired decor. It was one of the smaller suites, but it had everything a single visitor might need for a comfortable stay.
AKA Count Trashula
Bertrand let out a small noise, something between a squeak and a sob. It was bigger than his entire apartment back in Paris and he said as much once he managed to get the words out. He took a tentative step into the room and craned his neck to peer into the bathroom. "Back home I have to share a communal bathroom with two of my neighbors," he said.
Valko stared at him. "You poor ting," they clucked with a shake of their head. "Dis is my smallest suite."
ALWAYS PING ME
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Having you as a Voltie would be awesome.